Night is Calling

"Night is calling. Drawing you in."

"I'll close my eyes. Ignore its song." I squeezed my eyelids shut like I always did, careful not to show my boredom.

"What if you hear the wind?"

"I'll tug my blanket tight and sleep on." I peeked at Nanna. Her strong wrinkled hands moved at a rapid pace as she knit and rocked. Her eyes were closed, her face fully serious, never changing as she sang the pledge.

"And if the wind persists, what then?"

"I'll say not a word and stay in my slumber."

"We are safe here, inside these walls."

"We are safe here, so long as we pretend." I risked another glance. Nanna looked calmer as the pledge neared its end, her rocking slowing, her face almost smiling.

"Night is calling."

"But we do not answer."

"And we never will."

We said the rest in unison. "Safe inside these walls. We turn our back to the dark. Safe within the light."

Nanna's rocking stopped as she placed her knitting at the foot of the chair. She stood, age making her movements slow, and as she hobbled toward my bed, I noticed how fragile she'd become these past few months.

"Goodnight, my little dove."A wrinkled hand brushed my black hair away from my brow.

"You don't have to say it with me, Nanna. You should be resting in your bed." I reached up and grabbed the hand I loved so much and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"And let you sing the pledge on your own?" She scoffed. "That would be breaking tradition."

"I'm nearly grown." I let out a sigh but softened it with a smile. "I would prefer you sleep. You do too much."

"The day I can't say the pledge to my grandchild is the day I give up and move on to see your Pappa."

I chuckled. "Stubborn like a mule."

"A trait I have seemed to pass to you." Her voice held a note of scorn, but her wrinkled face showed a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. I returned it with one of my own.

"Night, Nanna."

"Keep the lamp burning." Nanna turned after one final pat on my head and hobbled out of the room.

I could hear her as she made her way toward the fire in our hearth. I knew the kettle would be over the flames, and she would be working on more knitting. Wherever she went, there was always tea and knitting. I loved the sound of both.

I rolled to my side and stared at the one stretch of moonlight that made its way past the window's curtains. Nanna's pledge, like always, sounded in the back of my mind. I hated and loved the pledge simultaneously. It reminded me of Nanna, so I had to love it too. But those words also meant being stuck behind long and dark archaic traditions.

Traditions were vital to the village. We lived and died with them and barely did anything in between. Everyone was afraid, but no one would say why. I don't think anyone remembered the real reason. It was fear, passed down from mother to child, and repeated over and over again.

I fell asleep to the sound of Nanna's knitting, a whistling tea kettle, and an owl hooting.

A Familiar Visitor

I was having the same dream again. I yawned and stretched, opening my dream eyes and searching. I knew what I would find, and I welcomed my unusual visitor like always.

"Don't you ever get tired of visiting my dreams, Haline?"

"Tired? You're the one who should be tired. You're talking in your sleep."

I laughed. "You always say that."

"Only when you make my visits difficult." Haline gave a soft hoot, her feathered body shaking with laughter. When the barn owl finished being pleased with herself, she shook out her brown feathers and tilted her head. "Nanna looks old."

"She is old." I bristled. Nanna wasn't a topic I liked talking about, not even in my dreams with my unusual friend.

"Hmm." Haline's eyes seemed to search mine as she sat perfectly perched on my open windowsill. "I think you are sad."

I plucked a loose thread on my blanket and didn't meet Haline's haunting eyes. "I don't think I have much time with her."

"She will be without pain in the end."

I halted my fidgeting, but my fingers still trembled. "I do not wish to talk about this any longer."

"Night is calling," Haline whispered.

"One day, I'll answer."

"Come find me when you do."

Morning Light

I shivered, tugging my blanket closer. As I tried to drift back to sleep, a thought flickered inside my mind. Quiet...it was so very quiet.

I bolted upward, letting the blanket fall. Daylight shone through the slits of my bedroom's curtains.

"Nanna?"

Silence met me once more. I tugged my shawl over my shoulders as I stood and made my way out to the hearth on bare feet. Nanna sat in her favorite spot with knitting on her lap and hands folded.

"Nanna? Are you still asleep?" I half-whispered as I reached to place another log in the hearth and light it. "You've let the flame go out. You must be freezing."

I took my time making sure the flames were tall and bright, urging warmth to fill our small home. When I was satisfied with the flame, I turned to Nanna and placed my hand over hers.

I yanked it back.

She was bone cold, her fingers stiff.

"Nanna?" My voice hitched.

I reached up to touch her cheek. Nanna didn't stir or breathe, but she looked at peace.

Saying Goodbye

I was surrounded by familiar faces. The only one I longed to see lay at rest under the tree.

It was tradition, laying our dead under the giant branches. My Nanna's absence burned a hole inside of me and an unfamiliar emptiness clutched at my chest.

Little lanterns hung from every tree limb, lighting Nanna's way home. They would stay on all day and throughout the night to ensure she could find her way.

"You are not alone. We are here for you."

I responded with a nod. One after the other they came. Some placed a hand on my shoulder as they passed, while others offered a few words of condolences. In a way, they were part of my family. The people in the village felt the absence of Nanna's presence just like I did.

"What will you do?"

I pulled my thoughts out of the dark and glanced up. Kind eyes met mine. "Do?"

"Yes, now that your Nan is gone, what will you do?"

"I suppose I'll do what I always have, Peter." My eyes drifted back toward the lanterns on the tree.

"She'll find her way."

I nodded.

"You could leave."

I blinked. "Pardon?"

Peter glanced at his shoes. I looked at him, really looked this time. He was tall, strong too. I suppose that was to be expected when you worked the fields on a farm. It occurred to me that I'd never seen him dressed so nice, not even for other passings.

"I should have waited to say anything."

"Say what?" I searched his face.

Peter swallowed. "You could stay with me. Your Nan was a special lady, and she meant a lot to my family too, but you, you mean more, and it's not good to be alone."

"Are you asking me to come live with you, Peter?" I felt my face nearly chuckle. It took me by surprise.

"No! Well, yes, but as my wife." Peter's face was scarlet.

"Thank you. I will consider your offer at a later time."

"Yes, of course." He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that, or at all today." He ran a hand through his red hair. "I should have waited."

I smiled. "You said it just fine. Thank you for giving me something bright to think about on a dark day."

I gave his arm a gentle pat as I walked away, unable to do more for his nerves but thankful for the short distraction, even if it was short-lived from my ever-building grief.

I made my way home.

Taking Flight

I had more food than I could eat. That was the village's way. They would make sure I didn't go hungry in my sorrow and I would be tempted by the smell of freshly baked pies, warm soup, and perfect bread.

I did eat, even if it was with less appreciation than the food deserved.

The house was empty. Nanna's presence had filled this place, making it a home.

Now it was just a shell.

Darkness ascended without me noting the passing hours. I was wrapped in Nanna's shawl and reached for her knitting. I stared at it, trying to blink back the rapidly falling tears.

A deep sob left my chest, and I doubled over, clutching the knitting against me.

A soft hooting echoed outside.

Slowly the ache subsided, and my tears dried. I sat the knitting on the floor and stood, following the sounds of the calling owl into my room.

The curtains were open tonight. Nanna had always closed them long before sunset.

I stood staring.

The night held such contrast to the day. The stars sparkled in the cloaked sky as the moon's rays illuminated my room.

A tawny barn owl flew to the windowsill and pecked at the glass. She seemed familiar, like a friend.

The night is calling.

I unlatched the window. A gusty breeze blew up the pane, and I welcomed its icy chill upon my skin.

Come with me.

My heart picked up its pace as I touched the owl. It tilted its head, the eyes searching as if seeking mine.

Time is near.

Past the owl hung the lanterns, dangling on the tree.

Stay or leave.

Flashes and thoughts flickered through my mind. I saw Peter, my hand in his, a soft smile on his lips. More thoughts danced their way forward, these showed me soaring. Above the trees and beneath the stars, I took flight. Free of walls and curtains.

Choose.

I met the owl's eyes.

I flew.